


he took you and depression took you and some places you can never really escape, even when you leave them

by artsyspikedhair



Series: nonono, your brain shouts out as you remember the tragedy you're forced to call your life [1]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Abusive Azelma, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gen, Grantaire Angst, POV Second Person, Physical Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Repressed Memories, Sexual Assault, Slurs, Trans Enjolras, Trans Female Character, Trans Grantaire, Trans Male Character, Transphobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-19
Updated: 2016-08-19
Packaged: 2018-08-09 11:48:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7800697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/artsyspikedhair/pseuds/artsyspikedhair
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You are Grantaire, and you are afraid.</p>
            </blockquote>





	he took you and depression took you and some places you can never really escape, even when you leave them

**Author's Note:**

> I am really sorry about how much angst I am about to put out into the world. This is heavily based on a lot of real things that happened to me, and I warned you in the beginning about sexual assault and repressed memories, but I just want to warn you again in case you didn't read the tags. Also, about the slurs. There is one homophobic slur (the f word) and multiple transphobic slurs (h*-s*e and sh*m*le, to be specific). I would appreciate comments on whether you think the second person writing style worked or not, as well as if this piece of shit is able to affect anyone other than me.

You and Enjolras are fighting. This is nothing new. Combeferre has a worried eye on the blond, and Joly has one on you. This, too, is nothing new with regards to the lunch table. The fear in your stomach, however, is. The topic in which you two are fighting about also is. You have actual stakes in this. You know, from the broken torment you've been suffering from that almost nobody knows about, that what you are saying is true. 

"Enjolras, nobody will listen to a trans person's opinion on this. You know as well as anyone that the conservatives think we're the bad guys!" 

"So what are you saying, we shouldn't try to raise awareness?" 

The knot of fear tightens in your chest. You don't mean that. You want to make a difference, but you've beaten this dead horse so many times its bones are showing. You're about to give in. "No, I mean-" 

Enjolras cuts in, on a rampage now. Combeferre's eyebrows, already furrowed, furrow so low they touch his eye sockets. "Why should your opinions, Grantaire, on our plans matter anyway? It's not like _you've _ __ever been sexually assaulted!"__

Joly is now standing up, shouting "What the actual fuck, Enjolras?!" and Bahorel looks ready to punch someone, but you're not really paying attention. You feel shaky and sick. Your ears feel full of white noise and you decide to get up. Your knees feel shaky but it doesn't matter, nothing matters but getting away, because Enjolras' face suddenly looks a lot like _his. _ ____You are out in the hallway before you realize it, and you are making a noise that is almost a scream, and you are remembering and remembering and remembering, and what the actual fuck, indeed.

.  
You met _him _ __in middle school. Joly was with you when you met him.He had blue eyes that looked like ice and braces that looked more like a night sky shade of blue and his hair had brown curls that piled on the top of his head. The hair was not all dissimilar from yours, except your hair was down to your chin and looked a lot like an Afro, or, well, a Jew-fro. He looked around and muttered to himself, "'Least there aren't any faggots around." You, who already had a personality ripe for antagonizing people, decided instantly that you hated him. Joly, on the other hand, walked up to him and introduced himself. It was then you made your first comment, insulting his taste in clothing. You wonder, if you had known then what you know now, if you staying silent would have made a difference.__

You were raised in a home that, while not physically abusive, was full of shouting and bitterness. Your father had no faith in your academic abilities and seemed to ignore you the majority of the time, and your mother, well, she was the tyrant that ran the household. If a chore wasn't done she would scream at your dad for hours, even after he had begun doing it. And when you forgot to make your bed or do the laundry, well, you were a good-for-nothing who didn't deserve to live in her house. So you were no stranger to insults. And after Bahorel decided Liam, that was the boy's ghastly name, was cool enough to sit at their lunch table, you had plenty of target practice. 

You weren't exactly the happiest person on the planet. When you were born, you were decided that girl fit your genitalia best, and seventh grade was the year you realized you hated every last bit of it. In sixth grade, all your clothes came from the boys' department. Your mother was not pleased, to say the least, but she let you buy the clothes. You didn't want to be trans though, because you didn't want to be a _freak. _ __Azelma, your then-ex-best-friend called you a freak a lot. She was not a nice person, and she hit you whenever you disagreed with her. You were a stubborn person though, so she hit you a lot. And pinched you, and kicked you, and tackled you. You had been friends with her since you were young though, and in sixth grade it had felt wrong to abandon her just because she tried to control your life and stop you from having opinions. You had fallen into a deep depression the spring of sixth grade though, and eventually threatened to kill her while at summer camp. She left you alone, but you still felt scared of her.__

Liam was not the type of person to take your insults lying down. He gave as good as he got, and he usually attacked your appearance. He also sometimes attacked your gender, saying you were a he-she or a shemale, an asking you if you had a dick in those pants or not. You would then attempt to knee him in balls until Bahorel broke the two of you up. 

.  


Everything fell apart the night your mother was invited over to his house for lunch with his mother. She went, and dragged you along. You couldn't remember anything about that afternoon, but afterwards you avoided Liam like the plague. Joly and Bahorel noticed, and you told them what had happened. You also told Montparnasse, your sorta friend, and you don't remember much, but he laughed at you and told you whatever happened 'wasn't that bad'. Afterwards you couldn't remember again. You spent the rest of the year in a sort of fog. You would hurt yourself sometimes, trying to feel anything other than numb, but you couldn't. In eighth grade, Bahorel , Joly, and you switched lunch tables, leaving Liam with Montparnasse, Claquesous, and Babet, the school stoners you had sat with because you thought it was cool. It wasn't cool. You joined theater, and came out as trans. Bahorel had a new girlfriend named Shay who was also trans, a trans girl, and the two of you clicked. She was one of the funniest people you' ever met. It felt like your life was coming together. But there was still a sense of dread whenever anyone touched you. You ignored it, but gave into self harm until you landed in the hospital for a suicide attempt that June. Joly,suffering from anxiety, was with you throughout the process, and you and him befriended a boy at the partial hospitalization program known only as Eagle, or L'Aigle in French 

You started remembering this year. Ninth grade, you had flashes of green carpet and someone's foot touching your crotch. Days before the argument with Enjolras, you had pieced together what had happened. Liam's mother had told the two of you to go play, and for a while you did. He attacked you with Nerf guns, and you felt, for a while, like maybe you had misjudged him. But then you went into his room. 

_"No girls allowed," he said, barring the entrance with a sickening grin. You broke in anyway. You settled into a beanbag in the corner of his room. He charged at you, and suddenly, his foot was on your crotch. "Oh," he said, surprised. "I guess you are a girl, after all." You tried to break away, voicing a small, broken 'no'. "No?" he echoed, smirking "You're not. Then you're a fucking he-she, just like I thought." He grabbed your shoulders and pinned you to the ground. You were on your stomach. He leaned on top of you, and suddenly his foot was in your butt, but your pants were still on. You remember you were wearing your favorite shirt, red and blue and white plaid. His carpet was green._

.  


Afterwards, his mother fed you ice cream. You remembered that the entire time. It was only the assault you repressed. And now it is overwhelming you. You can feel _him _ __and you don't want to remember. You should be able to control this. It shouldn't effect you this badly, you think to yourself. It wasn't like you were raped.__

But Enjolras, Enjolras is one of your first trans friends. And you argue with him because you like him, and you don't want to like him because you can't be gay on top of everything else. But Enjolras is wrong about this. You were sexually assaulted. 

It's the first time you've ever thought that. Joly is in the hallway with you now, telling you how out of line Enjolras was and how you're so brave and it's going to be okay; but it isn't. You are not okay. You are broken, and everything is triggering, but at least now you know what has happened to you. At least now you know what's wrong with you.


End file.
